sleeve under a short-sleeve with my windbreaker over that, mittens, visor and sunglasses. Finally it was time, very few people at the starting line (runners or spectators) we bounced up and down steam pouring out of everyone's mouth/nose with every breath. After a moment of silence for those who lost their lives not only in the Boston Marathon Tragedy but also the West Texas explosion, we were off.
The footing on the first loop of four was brutal, constantly breaking trail, punching through the top layer of snow, slipping, sliding, looking for any slice of packed down snow, waiting for feeling to come back into my fingers and toes.
The sun was shining though and there was a beautiful sunrise which kept my spirits up as we trudged on through. Eyes trained on the ground, totally focused on your next step, it was hard to look away from the trail to enjoy the scenery.
The trail had been changed from years past, putting us on a bit more pavement due to the snow (the danger of falling much great this year) so after slipping around for a few miles in the snow it was quite a relief to come out on pavement for a little bit before ducking back into the snow.
First lap seemed to take forever, right as we made the turn into the second I fell into pace with a guy running in a Paul Bunyan flannel shirt, we were about the same age and talked music, and books and running for the second loop (footing much easier than the first as now the 25K people were also on the course and it was still cold enough that the snow hadn't started to melt)
By the time we moved on to the third loop the guy I was running with was slowing down, running through snow is sometimes compared to running through sand but it's really different. With every step in snow you slide a little, you need to use your ankles and calves quite a bit, as well as muscles you don't normally use in your glutes and quads, and that took its toll the guy I was running with so we parted ways.
The third lap is always the worst. You have run the same loop already twice, you know what's coming up, you know you have another lap & you just want to get that one over with so you can get to the last loop. This lap was made worse by the fact that now the 25K people plus the relay runners were on the course and much of the trail was single track, so you could get stuck behind a huge column of people with nowhere to go.
That's when my motto kicked it, pack a lunch boy, it's gonna be a long day. I was already slowed down by the snow and terrain, and mentally just had to realize it was going to be a long day. I had nothing else to do that day, might as well just enjoy it. And that's exactly what I did.
I passed some folks when I could, running through the snow to get back up on the packed down stuff ahead, but for the most part just settled in and went with the flow, finally making it around to the start/finish again.
This is always a tough part, the people in front of me were 25k runners, so they were done, I still had another lap to go, people are cheering, everyone yelling 'You're almost there!' well not really but thanks.
You run through the finish line and then just keep going. It's quite a mental challenge to not just stop and sit down and say "I'm done"
I made the turn and started up a hill feeling pretty tired at this point. Decided to walk this hill and when I got to the top made the decision that I will only walk the big hills (hadn't walked at all up to this point) and since I was on my 4th lap I knew where every hill was and forced myself to keep running knowing that there was a break coming soon.
At one point I attacked a hill, finding the right footing and bounding up it, surprising the first aid person at the top who said 'Oh my goodness you're like a little billy goat!' cracked me up.
Head down, intense focus, body in a flow despite the inability to get any sort of a rhythm to my stride due to the snow. Finally I made the last turn and in cruel irony, had to go up a hill that was a combo of snow and sand having been beaten down by all the runners at this point and made it to the finish.
There was no fanfare, most of the spectators were gone, it was still quite chilly, a medal was placed around my neck, I sat down for the first time in over 5 hours, drank a bottle of water, stretched a bit, threw on my sweats and then ate that lunch I packed...
Monday, April 22, 2013
Pack A Lunch
Ooweee it's cold, I thought as I fired up the Silver Fox at 545 Saturday morning. The temp on the dash read 25 as I scraped the windows and wondered what the Trail Mix 50K course was going to be like that morning.
The previous Sunday I had gone out to Hyland Park in the rain, sleet, snow, wind to hike for an hour or so to test out my new backpack and some rain gear for my upcoming trip to Isle Royale and that day the trails were full of snow making walking quite difficult, since then we had gotten another 3-4 inches of snow packed on top of that...oh and it was April 20th.
Well at least the sun was shining.
After picking up my race number and timing chip I retreated once again to my car where I blasted the heater and got ready. April 20th and I have yet to run outside in shorts, today was no exception, tights, trail shoes, long-
sleeve under a short-sleeve with my windbreaker over that, mittens, visor and sunglasses. Finally it was time, very few people at the starting line (runners or spectators) we bounced up and down steam pouring out of everyone's mouth/nose with every breath. After a moment of silence for those who lost their lives not only in the Boston Marathon Tragedy but also the West Texas explosion, we were off.
The footing on the first loop of four was brutal, constantly breaking trail, punching through the top layer of snow, slipping, sliding, looking for any slice of packed down snow, waiting for feeling to come back into my fingers and toes.
The sun was shining though and there was a beautiful sunrise which kept my spirits up as we trudged on through. Eyes trained on the ground, totally focused on your next step, it was hard to look away from the trail to enjoy the scenery.
The trail had been changed from years past, putting us on a bit more pavement due to the snow (the danger of falling much great this year) so after slipping around for a few miles in the snow it was quite a relief to come out on pavement for a little bit before ducking back into the snow.
First lap seemed to take forever, right as we made the turn into the second I fell into pace with a guy running in a Paul Bunyan flannel shirt, we were about the same age and talked music, and books and running for the second loop (footing much easier than the first as now the 25K people were also on the course and it was still cold enough that the snow hadn't started to melt)
By the time we moved on to the third loop the guy I was running with was slowing down, running through snow is sometimes compared to running through sand but it's really different. With every step in snow you slide a little, you need to use your ankles and calves quite a bit, as well as muscles you don't normally use in your glutes and quads, and that took its toll the guy I was running with so we parted ways.
The third lap is always the worst. You have run the same loop already twice, you know what's coming up, you know you have another lap & you just want to get that one over with so you can get to the last loop. This lap was made worse by the fact that now the 25K people plus the relay runners were on the course and much of the trail was single track, so you could get stuck behind a huge column of people with nowhere to go.
That's when my motto kicked it, pack a lunch boy, it's gonna be a long day. I was already slowed down by the snow and terrain, and mentally just had to realize it was going to be a long day. I had nothing else to do that day, might as well just enjoy it. And that's exactly what I did.
I passed some folks when I could, running through the snow to get back up on the packed down stuff ahead, but for the most part just settled in and went with the flow, finally making it around to the start/finish again.
This is always a tough part, the people in front of me were 25k runners, so they were done, I still had another lap to go, people are cheering, everyone yelling 'You're almost there!' well not really but thanks.
You run through the finish line and then just keep going. It's quite a mental challenge to not just stop and sit down and say "I'm done"
I made the turn and started up a hill feeling pretty tired at this point. Decided to walk this hill and when I got to the top made the decision that I will only walk the big hills (hadn't walked at all up to this point) and since I was on my 4th lap I knew where every hill was and forced myself to keep running knowing that there was a break coming soon.
At one point I attacked a hill, finding the right footing and bounding up it, surprising the first aid person at the top who said 'Oh my goodness you're like a little billy goat!' cracked me up.
Head down, intense focus, body in a flow despite the inability to get any sort of a rhythm to my stride due to the snow. Finally I made the last turn and in cruel irony, had to go up a hill that was a combo of snow and sand having been beaten down by all the runners at this point and made it to the finish.
There was no fanfare, most of the spectators were gone, it was still quite chilly, a medal was placed around my neck, I sat down for the first time in over 5 hours, drank a bottle of water, stretched a bit, threw on my sweats and then ate that lunch I packed...
sleeve under a short-sleeve with my windbreaker over that, mittens, visor and sunglasses. Finally it was time, very few people at the starting line (runners or spectators) we bounced up and down steam pouring out of everyone's mouth/nose with every breath. After a moment of silence for those who lost their lives not only in the Boston Marathon Tragedy but also the West Texas explosion, we were off.
The footing on the first loop of four was brutal, constantly breaking trail, punching through the top layer of snow, slipping, sliding, looking for any slice of packed down snow, waiting for feeling to come back into my fingers and toes.
The sun was shining though and there was a beautiful sunrise which kept my spirits up as we trudged on through. Eyes trained on the ground, totally focused on your next step, it was hard to look away from the trail to enjoy the scenery.
The trail had been changed from years past, putting us on a bit more pavement due to the snow (the danger of falling much great this year) so after slipping around for a few miles in the snow it was quite a relief to come out on pavement for a little bit before ducking back into the snow.
First lap seemed to take forever, right as we made the turn into the second I fell into pace with a guy running in a Paul Bunyan flannel shirt, we were about the same age and talked music, and books and running for the second loop (footing much easier than the first as now the 25K people were also on the course and it was still cold enough that the snow hadn't started to melt)
By the time we moved on to the third loop the guy I was running with was slowing down, running through snow is sometimes compared to running through sand but it's really different. With every step in snow you slide a little, you need to use your ankles and calves quite a bit, as well as muscles you don't normally use in your glutes and quads, and that took its toll the guy I was running with so we parted ways.
The third lap is always the worst. You have run the same loop already twice, you know what's coming up, you know you have another lap & you just want to get that one over with so you can get to the last loop. This lap was made worse by the fact that now the 25K people plus the relay runners were on the course and much of the trail was single track, so you could get stuck behind a huge column of people with nowhere to go.
That's when my motto kicked it, pack a lunch boy, it's gonna be a long day. I was already slowed down by the snow and terrain, and mentally just had to realize it was going to be a long day. I had nothing else to do that day, might as well just enjoy it. And that's exactly what I did.
I passed some folks when I could, running through the snow to get back up on the packed down stuff ahead, but for the most part just settled in and went with the flow, finally making it around to the start/finish again.
This is always a tough part, the people in front of me were 25k runners, so they were done, I still had another lap to go, people are cheering, everyone yelling 'You're almost there!' well not really but thanks.
You run through the finish line and then just keep going. It's quite a mental challenge to not just stop and sit down and say "I'm done"
I made the turn and started up a hill feeling pretty tired at this point. Decided to walk this hill and when I got to the top made the decision that I will only walk the big hills (hadn't walked at all up to this point) and since I was on my 4th lap I knew where every hill was and forced myself to keep running knowing that there was a break coming soon.
At one point I attacked a hill, finding the right footing and bounding up it, surprising the first aid person at the top who said 'Oh my goodness you're like a little billy goat!' cracked me up.
Head down, intense focus, body in a flow despite the inability to get any sort of a rhythm to my stride due to the snow. Finally I made the last turn and in cruel irony, had to go up a hill that was a combo of snow and sand having been beaten down by all the runners at this point and made it to the finish.
There was no fanfare, most of the spectators were gone, it was still quite chilly, a medal was placed around my neck, I sat down for the first time in over 5 hours, drank a bottle of water, stretched a bit, threw on my sweats and then ate that lunch I packed...
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